


Will I Ever See You Again?

by Taarbas



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Light Angst, Mutual Pining, its not that bad someone just hasnt moved on yet, non-canon pronouns, pre-SOTW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 08:57:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20486255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taarbas/pseuds/Taarbas
Summary: A brilliant mind leaves brilliant ideas in their wake.





	Will I Ever See You Again?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm super rusty but Tarantulas and Brainstorm are lesbians and love each other and Tarantulas is THE definition of uhaul lesbian thx for comin to my ted talk

In front of her monitor, Tarantulas sat, visor fixed on the screen and hands folded under her chin. Someone had gotten in. Someone had cracked her precious dimension open, wormed their filthy body in, and taken up residence in one of her fields, disturbing her flora and fauna as they walked around. _Someone_ was refusing to fall victim to the howling madness that ruled the noisemaze, trailing their hands over tall grass as they made their way to a rock and sat upon it, a yellow bracelet ringing with the movement. Tarantulas wanted to hate them for disturbing her perfect little nest, for chasing her precious experiments away from her watchful eye and sending them cowering into the underbrush, but she found herself fascinated.

No signature announced their presence, and no weapons seemed to be on their person. A strange sight, considering a war was on- that _was_ still on, right?- but then they were turning, and Tarantulas was sucking in a breath as she examined their lithe frame, eyeing up their cockpit and tracing the arc of their wings as they peered at a watch. If she had to guess, she’d say they were cold constructed- maybe even an M.T.O.-, they had to be, to not have a built in chronometer. Her visitor sighed, face pinched and exhausted as they crossed a leg over the other and continued to sit on the rock, staring into the woods that surrounded the field they’d ended up in. She wondered what had them so weary, what made them hunch their shoulders and droop their wings and bow their head with each vent, rubbing their eyes and playing with their fingers.

They were waiting for something, or someone, but Tarantulas didn’t know what it was. It was starting to drive her mad- the not knowing, the watching- but then her guest was standing expectantly, stretching their arms high above their head and perking up ever so slightly. She leaned in, intrigued to see who or what would come, but as the seconds ticked by they began to look more and more worried. Seconds turned to minutes, and panic began to edge into their expression, and by the time five minutes had gone by they were on the ground, pulling at their bracelet and furiously going through notes they’d pulled from their subspace.

Something in her chest began to ache as they grew more and more frantic, pulling at their plating and moaning aloud while they paced, muttering to themselves and kicking at the ground. Pity. She felt pity. That was an emotion she hadn’t felt in a long time, along with a distant, familiar ache that made her purse her mandibles and draw her alt’s legs closer to her back. That part of her hadn’t stirred since before…before…

A face flashed through her processor, big blue eyes watching her as she worked. If she lingered on it long enough, she could pick out bits of herself- the lack of nose, for one, and the way she held herself, and the general build of her frame…

Tarantulas pushed the thought aside with a hiss, swallowing thickly as she stood. She had to meet her guest, but how? The thought of scaring them off made her stomach turn, her fur bristling as she considered a holo-avatar. The only one she had on hand was meant to hide her presence on Earth, but it was better than nothing, she supposed. Cybertronians wouldn’t be _that_ scared of a human, would they?

Moving to another monitor, Tarantulas set the alarm systems to allow her visitor to come through, moving to a sling of webbing once that was done. Her avatar came to her as easily as shifting form, and soon her actual body was in a deep sleep, her avatar standing on its chest. Bringing up a bridge from the tiny computer on her arm, she braced herself for its dizzying effects and stepped in. She just hoped her guest didn’t panic as soon as she stepped through.

The bridge deposited her a few yards from the rock they curled up on, their wings trembling as they held their knees to their chest. Anxiety rolled off them in waves as she approached, climbing the rock and clearing her throat as loud as she could in this form. They jumped, whirling around to peer down at her with no shortage of fear in their face. “What? Who are you?”

“I should ask you the same thing,” She replied, surprised to find them offering their palm for her to step into. Gripping their thumb, she climbed on, allowing herself to be raised to their face. Sucking in a breath, she stared at bright yellow eyes, the bags beneath them half hidden by their faceplate. Bright orange wasn’t her color, certainly, but this one...this one could wear it well. “How did you get in here?”

“What do you mean? Where am I?” Her head cocked, bright eyes narrowing. Dimly, Tarantulas wondered if they were really a Cybertronian, and if that was why they weren’t currently on the ground and screaming in agony. “Is this Earth?”

“No,” Tarantulas laughed, folding her arms. “And you haven’t introduced yourself. It’s very rude, you know,” She teased, leaning back against their fingers. They looked around, wings edging up as they tensed.

“It’s Brainstorm,” They replied hurriedly, getting to their feet. “But I don’t think we’re alone.” Tarantulas frowned, moving to protest before she was unceremoniously tucked against their chest. “Hold on!”

Tarantulas gasped as she transformed around her, cockpit folding around her as she shot up into the air. Below them, Tarantulas caught a glimpse of glowing green eyes, one of her many creatures stalking through the grass and leaping up onto the rock they’d been standing on, its warped frame twisting back and forth as it looked for its target. Brainstorm shuddered around her, circling the spot. “What _is_ that?”

“It was a turbofox, and a bit of a zap-pony, but then some technohawk got in and-”

“What?” Brainstorm’s engine stalled as she dipped closer to the ground, shooting back up when the creature reared up and swiped at her. “But those are-”

“Cybertronian. I know.” She shrugged, her avatar flickering as she momentarily shut it off. “Go left. I’ll tell you when its safe to land.” She obeyed, shooting across the sky and leaving Tarantulas watching in awe. She’d never flown before, at least not without being in a gigantic shuttle. “Here, land here.”

Touching down, Brainstorm transformed around her once again and deposited her back into her palm. “Who are you?” She breathed, face drawn up in worry. “Humans aren’t supposed to be able to survive on Cybertron, let alone where ever this is, and with stuff like _that_ roaming around-”

“Don’t worry about me. I want to know about _you_. This place is impenetrable- no one gets in, no one gets out- besides me, of course. How did _you_ get in?” Brainstorm paused, slowly setting her down onto the ground and sinking to sit cross legged.

“I wasn’t trying to go anywhere,” She protested, “And besides, this was only a test! I should have left after five minutes, but its been well past that, clearly-” She pointed to her watch, tapping the glass impatiently, “And I think I’m stuck.” She paused, looking around at the swirling sky above her. “Where am I, anyway? You never answered.”

“A pocket dimension. I created it to flay the minds of anyone who came in. But you seem awfully lucid for someone exposed to its charms. Why is that?” She sighed, shrugging her shoulders. “But you know how bending the law of physics is, you never know what happens. Time passes differently, here. A minute where you’re from- and I’m guessing that's Cybertron- is a full day here. Makes for an _excellent_ torture device, don’t you think?” She laughed before she could stop herself, not missing how Brainstorm flinched. “Oh, don’t give me that. If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done so already.”

“Why haven’t you?” Tarantulas wished she knew. Or at least had an answer less humiliating than “The last person I talked to was my partner, and that was literally centuries ago, and by primus am I _lonely_-”

“I’m bored,” She eventually replied, “You don’t exactly get visitors here, at least not ones that I didn’t bring myself. But, no matter! You are stuck here, and I live here, and that means I have a place you can stay. You can tell me what you were _trying_ to do before you ended up here.” Why had she offered that? It had simply come out of her mouth, far before her common sense could catch up. A pretty face had tricked her before, she should know better. But, then again, she supposed she could just eat her if it came down to it.

“How do I know I won’t just end up like that thing?” She scoffed, narrowing her eyes. Tarantulas felt a spark deep in her chest as Brainstorm folded her arms, defiance in her features. Oh, she _liked_ this one. “I’m far too smart to be tricked _that_ easy.”

“Okay,” Tarantulas relented, “Then I’ll let you stay out here. With that thing. And my other things. There’s lots of them, you know. And they’re oh so hungry. Goodbye then.” With that, she shut the avatar off, leaving it running in the background as she rushed back to the monitor. Excitement coursed through her veins as Brainstorm floundered, looking around furiously and calling out for her. When she didn’t come, she shot back into the air, hovering well off the ground and constantly twisting to look for more threats. She was haughty, but not stupid, she eventually decided, picking up an old takeout container and scrounging through it for any noodles left. The one downfall of an impenetrable fortress- it made it difficult to pop down to Earth for whatever greasy meal she was craving. On the monitor, Brainstorm’s voice got more desperate and wheedling, tugging on Tarantulas’ spark until she sighed and set the box down, starting up her avatar.

“Alright, fine!” She called from the ground, staring up at Brainstorm. “I’ll give you another chance to explain yourself. Maybe then I’ll bring you in.” Plummeting to the ground, Brainstorm transformed to her root and crouched, face pleading. Taking a deep vent, she blurt out:

“I’m trying to save my partner from dying in the war by traveling through time to stop the war. I’ve been testing my device- since its the first of its kind and I built it from scratch- but I must have miscalculated something and ended up here instead. Each test is programmed to pull me back to my proper timeline within five minutes, but the fa safe isn’t going off. I’m suspecting its because of what you said about this place messing with time- it feels like I’ve been in the air for hours. I’m exhausted, and hungry, and stressed, and I don’t want to be looking over my shoulder all night to avoid being eaten. _Please_, can I just crash on your couch or something?”

Tarantulas’ eyes got bigger with each word out of her mouth, jaw hanging open by the end of her confession. “Time travel?” She breathed, her spark twisting as Ostaros’ face flickered in her mind. “You’re telling me you invented _time travel?_”

She nodded, looking around the field once again. “Yes, yes, I know I’m brilliant, thank you very much. Now, can we _please_ get out of here-” She gasped as a flash lit up the area around them, the bridge depositing them in her parlor without further adieu. She couldn’t stifle her cackle as Brainstorm whipped around, head twisting on her neck to take in the room. Webbing decorated every inch of it, books and instruments carefully nestled in the strands. “What _is_ this place?”

“My home,” Tarantulas sniffed, folding her arms over chest. “And I want to see this time machine.” Brainstorm grimaced, looking down at her wrist. This close, Tarantulas could see little lines on the bracelet, almost like transformation seams. A chain hung off the bottom of it, one of the links neatly cleaved in half.

“Its in my lab, at home,” Brainstorm admitted, “I’m linked to it through here,” She pointed at the bracelet, holding up the end of the chain, “But to keep it from getting destroyed, its not with me.” She couldn’t hide the disappointment on her face at her confession, but she didn’t let it deter her.

“Don’t you have notes on it, or something? Show me.” Brainstorm hesitated, but with the memory of the creatures fresh in her mind, she didn’t wait long before extracting a datapad from her subspace. Setting it on the floor, Brainstorm shrugged.

“It’s too big for you to read in that form, why don’t you turn it off and come out?” Tarantulas froze, realizing she was right as her tiny human hands touched the smooth screen. To do so would be to reveal her less than average form, but to not do so meant the notes would be lost to her. Weighing her options, she gave in and switched her avatar off, rising from her bed of silks and moving towards the parlor.

“I must warn you,” She called, smoothing her fur as best she could, “I don’t look much like the Cybertronian I used to.” Stepping out, she peered down at a wide eyed Brainstorm, their wings inching up their back as she crept closer. “This place will do things to you,” She laughed as she picked up the datapad and switched it on, “Be careful, or you’ll walk out of here with six legs and some mandibles.”

“W-What, how, who-?!” She stuttered, looking Tarantulas up and down. “Did you do that?”

“Yes, darling,” Tarantulas laughed, getting a proper look at her for the first time. “My sweet little muse tricked me, you see,” She opened the notes, tapping her claw on the glass as she skimmed the mathematical equations, “And locked me away in here. I had to turn myself into this to survive. But don’t worry, I’ll get her back, one day. Some day soon, if all goes well.” Another laugh, her visor narrowing as she read an equation over a few times. “You know, you’re missing a two here. That might be part of your problem.”

“What?!” She sounded incredulous, her fear forgotten as she lept to her feet and bounded over, grabbing onto Tarantulas’ arm and jerking the datapad closer. Squinting, she read over the equation once, twice, and then let loose a string of curses that had Tarantulas raising her visor. Pulling a stylus from her subspace, Tarantulas quietly wrote it in, ignoring how her spark fluttered when Brainstorm butt up against her to watch. She was_ not_ going to act like a charged up newly forged in front of this person- absolutely not. Narrowing her visor, she tried to focus on reading once again, her legs twitching against her back. If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend it was Prowl up against her, almost bouncing on the balls of her feet as she pointed out flaws in her math, or tried to come up with a more efficient or accurate way of calculating whatever it was. Her spark ached with the memory, and she found her eye wandering back to Brainstorm’s frame more and more.

Thin and lithe wasn’t normally her type, but she was willing to look past that for such a pretty face, such a brilliant mind. _Time travel_, for Primus sake, she’d never dreamed of something so advanced, so unreachable, and here was a woman telling her she’d done so a few times already. A mech after her own spark, this Brainstorm. “You know, I can review your notes, if you’d like. I might be able to catch other mistakes like that.”

“Please, you won’t find any,” Brainstorm boasted, eyes flashing over her mask, “But I’d like to see you try.” Her predicament seemed to be forgotten, the knowledge Tarantulas dangled in front of her like a treat doing exactly what she’d hoped it would. Squinting a smirk, she ushered Brainstorm to her couch.

“Very well,” She purred, sinking onto it and patting the seat next to her. “I’m _very_ thorough, you should get comfortable.” Brainstorm hesitated, and Tarantulas realized her mandibles had flared out, revealing her chelicerae and fangs. Oops. “Oh please, I won’t hurt you. I’m not very patient, if I wanted to eat you, I would have done so already.” Brainstorm didn’t need to know she still _very_ much wanted to, her mouth watering at the thought. Next time, less animal DNA, more rational brain.

“Who said anything about eating me?” She replied, sitting more than a comfortable distance away. Still, the distance didn’t last long, each mark from Tarantulas’ stylus bringing Brainstorm closer. Soon, she was half in her lap, pointing out her own mistakes before Tarantulas had gotten a chance to mark them. Too soon, the datapad was finished, and Tarantulas was forced to hand it over, Brainstorm snatching it from her hands like an overeager child and sitting back against the couch to page through it once again. “Your handwriting’s much better than I thought it’d be,” She said as she read, “Almost as nice as Percy’s.”

“Is that your partner?” Brainstorm stopped short, eyes widening and steam puffing out from her mask before she answered.

“In a way.” Tarantulas narrowed her visor.  
“It’s a yes or no question. Or is she the one who died?” Okay, maybe tact wasn’t her thing. Brainstorm stiffened, eyes squinting as if she was pursing her lips in pain.

“No. That wasn’t her. I-I don’t want to talk about her.” Tarantulas hummed, crossing her legs and resting her hands on her knee. Brainstorm wouldn’t look at her, but she clearly wasn’t reading the datapad, either.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll see her again soon,” Tarantulas hoped that sounded less than threatening, “Your ideas are- to put it lightly- brilliant.” She’d already tucked a few of them into the back of mind, already considering how she could use them herself. She could almost see Ostaros again, holding her intact hand as Tarantulas- or would she go back to calling herself Mesothulas?- explained something to her. Her sweet, beautiful daughter- she had been meant to long outlive her. Suddenly, she didn’t want to think about time travel anymore, or anything related to it.

“You can sleep here,” She suddenly said, getting to her feet and pointing at the couch. “I don’t have another bed.” Brainstorm jumped, taken aback by her sudden shift in tone. “Don’t come into my room.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” She huffed, but didn’t press why Tarantulas was suddenly spinning on her heel and stalking off, visor glowing in the low light of the hall. Back in her room, she stared at the monitors and weighed her options. With what she’d seen of Brainstorm’s notes, she could probably get her back to her proper time- and dimension- pretty easily. It was just a matter of materials, but she had connections that poor Brainstorm could only dream of. To do that, though, guaranteed her leaving. She was no closer to an answer when she finally managed to fall asleep than when she first posed the question to herself- why did she care so much?

Tarantulas slept fitfully that night, her processor plagued with flashes of blue and orange and giggling whispers back and forth in the low light of her lab, fingers brushing against each other as they reached for tools and swapped notes and-

_ Oh_, she had it bad. And so quickly! She cursed as she sat up, rubbing her face and smoothing the fur on her head. It’d been too long- that was it. Once she’d had a taste of social interaction, this would mellow out and go away. Getting to her feet, she spent a little more time on grooming her fur before heading out and down to her lab, intent to check on her bacterial samples before checking on Brainstorm.

What she hadn’t expected to walk in on, though, was Brainstorm, bent over one of her tables and furiously flipping through her carefully kept notes, eyes bright and shining as she devoured the writing. Judging by the bags under her eyes, she hadn’t slept yet. Tarantulas searched deep in her spark for some sort of anger, but found herself coming up short as she watched Brainstorm excitedly pick up another set of notes.

“_Ahem_,” She cleared her throat, smirking as Brainstorm jumped and stumbled away from the table, looking up at her with guilty eyes. “Do you always let yourself into other people’s rooms to snoop through their stuff?” She sniffed, stepping into the lab and moving to rearrange her notes back into their proper piles.

“I’m sorry,” Brainstorm didn’t sound sorry at all, “I just- you were talking about how this was a pocket dimension, and I wanted to know _how-_”

“I don’t have those notes, anymore. They were destroyed when my partner burnt my old lab down.” She sobered immediately, wings dropping in record time as her eyes widened and dimmed. Tarantulas shrugged, picking up the datapad Brainstorm had been reading and setting it on the pile. “You don’t want one, anyway. They’re very empty.”

“You sound very lonely. Why don’t you leave?” Tarantulas jumped, whirling on Brainstorm as she cringed. “Er- I mean, but its so lovely here! Who _wouldn’t_ want to-”

“Brainstorm.” Tarantulas sighed, ushering her out of the lab and shutting the door. This time, she remembered to lock it. “It has been centuries- literally centuries- since I last spoke to another Cybertronian. You are correct, I am _extremely_ lonely. But why do you think I don’t leave?” Brainstorm looked away, completely silent as Tarantulas walked her back to the parlor. She didn’t blame her, how did one respond to something like that?

“Couldn’t you turn yourself back?” She eventually asked, and Tarantulas shrugged, even as the mention had her imagining a _very_ different life. Ostaros might be gone, but with another muse- another _partner- _she could create another. They would never replace Ostaros, they never could, but it would be nice to have them around. Maybe this time, her partner would want them.

“I could,” She answered instead, “But I like this form. I’m far more efficient like this.” Flickering her gaze down, she eyed Brainstorms’ bracelet. “You know, we could put those changes into your machine. Maybe it’d let you go home.”

She puzzled it over, fidgeting with the device. “I don’t know,” She admitted, sitting back on the couch and not moving away as Tarantulas sat next to her. “I’m afraid to go back. What if so much time has passed, I’ve missed something important? What if this dimension hopping does something to my frame?”

“Please, you’ve been gone two minutes in your world, maybe a little more. I wouldn’t worry that much.” She drummed her fingers on her thigh, squinting at Brainstorm. “Besides, I don’t have any energon here. Everything here runs on obtenteum- and trust me- you can’t eat it. Don’t you want to go home and refuel?” Brainstorm hesitated, shrugging her shoulders.

“I’ll live. Probably. Our frames can go a long time without fuel.” Tarantulas pursed her mandibles, the overwhelming urge to wrap her arm around Brainstorm hitting her full force. Instead, she stood and began to pace.

“Very well, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. I have work to do- try to stay out of trouble.” She ducked out of the room without another word, sealing herself in her lab. Being around Brainstorm...hurt, she decided. She didn’t want her to leave- but it was inevitable. And her getting close to her would only make it all so much worse. Better to suffer now than later, she supposed, even as she knew she’d be missing Brainstorm long after she’d gone.

“Tarantulas?” She paused, turning to see Brainstorm in the doorway. “I can help, I read your notes. Here-” She rushed in, moving to the centrifuge in the corner. “Pass me what samples you want done. It’ll save you some time.” Tarantulas knew better. She shouldn’t. She was going to get attached, and she was going to hurt for it.

Passing her a tube, she straightened her back. “Don’t mess these up. They’re important.”

After that, the pair fell into a routine, Tarantulas getting up and going to work while Brainstorm pretended to not be snooping through her lab before joining her and acting as her partner. Tarantulas’ spark squeezed each time their fingertips so much as brushed, and on the fourth night, she decided it was now or never and leaned up against Brainstorm’s side as they sat on the couch and poured over their notes for the day. To her surprise, Brainstorm didn’t push her away, but she didn’t lean into her either. It wasn’t a harsh rejection, at least, and Tarantulas politely sat back up after that, but it was still a rejection. It made sense, her missing partner seemed to be the crux of most of Brainstorm’s decision making, but it still hurt. Tucking those feelings deep in her chest, Tarantulas kept up their routine, until the last hour of the fourth day.

“You’ll be leaving any minute now,” She said, double checking that Brainstorm had the copies of their notes back up on her datapad. Unplugging it from her console, she passed it back to her and tried not to read into how her hand lingered close to her own. “Try not to end up back here. Maybe next time I won’t be so gracious a host.”

Brainstorm laughed, taking the datapad and tucking it away. If Tarantulas didn’t know better, she’d say she almost looked sad. “Yes, if my math is correct, in another five minutes or so.” She hesitated, shifting from foot to foot. “Tarantulas? I have something for you.”

Reaching into her subspace, she pulled out a silver chain, a watch face on top of it. It ticked quietly as she pressed it into Tarantulas’ palm, refusing to meet her face. “Its synced with mine. No matter where we are, what dimension or what time- they’ll match.”

Tarantulas stared, her mandibles quivering as she took the watch and turned it over in her hands, visor tearing as the hand ticked away. She wanted to thank her, but her voice wouldn’t come.

“Maybe one day, I’ll see you again?” Tarantulas sniffed, raising her head to answer only to find Brainstorm already gone, a wisp of twinkling purple and black smoke the only trace left- and fading fast. Sucking in a breath, she looked down at the watch, pursing her mandibles as the hand continued to tick. Her thoughts from earlier- about Ostaros and ticking clocks and second chances- came to her in a hazy rush, and with one last look at where Brainstorm had stood, she moved to her lab.

She had a muse, and she had their notes. She would see them again. All of them. She would make things right, this time. All she needed was a little time, a little hope. Against her chest, the watch continued to tick.


End file.
